Sleepin' at the Foot o' the Bed
Did ye ever sleep at the foot o' the bed
When the weather wuz whizzin' cold,
When the wind wuz a-whistlin' aroun' the house
And the moon wuz yeller ez gold,
And give yore good warm feathers up
To Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Fred --
Too many kinfolks on a bad, raw night
And you wuz sent to the foot o' the bed.
For some dern reason the coldest night of the season
And you wuz sent to the foot o' the bed.
I could allus wait till the old folks et
An then eat the leavin's with grace,
The teacher could keep me after school,
An' I'd still hold a smile on my face,
I could wear the big boys' wore-out clothes
er let sister have my sled,
But it allus did git my nanny goat
to have to sleep at the foot o' the bed;
There's not a location topside o' creation
That I hate like the foot o' the bed.
'Twuz fine enough when the kinfolks come --
the kids brought brand new games,
You could see how fat all the old folks wuz,
and learn all the babies names,
Had biscuits an' custard and chicken pie,
An allus got Sunday fed,
But you knowed dern well when nighttime come on
You wuz headed fer the foot of the bed;
You couldn't git by it, they was no use to try it,
You wuz headed fer the foot o' the bed.
They tell me that some folks don't know whut it is
To have company all over the place,
To rassel fer cover thru a long winter night
with a big foot setting in your face,
Er with cold toenails a-scratchin' your back
An a footboard a scrubbin' yore head;
I'll tell the wide world you ain't lost a thing
Never sleepin' at the foot o' the bed;
You can live jest as gladly an' die jest as sadly
'N' never sleep at the foot o' the bed.
I've done it, an' I've done it a many uv a time
In this land o' brave an' the free,
An' in this all-fired battle of life
It's done left its mark upon me,
Fer I'm allus a-strugglin' around at the foot
Instead of forgin' ahead,
An' I don't think it's caused by a doggone thing
But sleepin' at the foot o' the bed.
I've lost all my claim on fortune an' fame
A-sleepin' at the foot o' the bed.
Lyrics by Luther Patrick, 1894 – May 26, 1957
U.S. Representative from Alabama, author and radio commentator
Sung by Little Jimmy Dickens & Connie Smith
Similar themes and equally humorous:
The Napping House by Audrey & Don Wood
"Grandma's Feather Bed"
sung by John Denver
music & lyrics by Jim Connor
**************************
Fuqua, occasionally at the foot . . .
but more often than not,
sleeping in style at the head of the bed!
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